


Sex and Sometimes Intimacy

by ARWalsh



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ahhhh smutty stuff scares me, Cassandra and Dorian are bros, Cassandra is So Done, Falling In Love, M/M, The sex doesn't matter it's the moments inbetween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7355158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARWalsh/pseuds/ARWalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This focuses on the moments in between the sex and developing relationship. The non-traditional intimate acts that made Dorian love Bull and Bull love Dorian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter takes place before Changes and before Dorian's personal quest. Everything is new and Dorian still gets scared. 
> 
> I will eventually write smut but it makes me nervous to write, so baby steps!

            “There is not even a remote chance you will say yes?” Inquisitor Talia questioned Dorian, “It’s just the Western approach and I bet that I will be worse off than you!” Her large green eyes stared up at him, smothering what was left of his resolve. Her pouting was effective and dangerous, after all these months he should have been more than aware of her methods. Scowling he looked down at the tiny woman and nodded.

            “Oh thank you Dorian! You are the absolute best!” Talia exclaimed. Darting passed Bull, she was out of his line of sight in an instant. The tall Qunari man stared curiously at his partner; there was a certain discomfort that Dorian held in his shoulders that made him uncomfortable.

            “What was that about?” Bull asked shutting the door to his room. Dorian looked up and then stared at the wall. The pinch between his brow meant that he was thinking far too hard. Bull wrapped his arm around Dorian’s chest and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Dorian, let’s go to bed.” Bull kissed the side of his lover’s neck.

            Cotton sheets caressed Dorian’s entire body. Bull was leaned over him, the roughness of the larger man’s body felt extravagant against his own. The large Qunari had his mouth wrapped around Dorian’s cock, his tongue running down the underside of it. Back arching off the bed, Dorian was barely containing himself when Bull stopped. The Qunari kissed up Dorian’s entire body; Bull stopped every now and again to pay special attention to a particular portion of Dorian’s anatomy. A loud moan, deep in Dorian’s throat, echoed across the room as Bull’s mouth covered a nipple. The sound pitched higher when the soft kissed turned into a sharp nip at the sensitive area. Bull was always a contrast, both soft and hard all at once it was infuriating.

            Everything came to a screeching halt when Bull yanked Dorian up in to a sitting position. They were able to look each other in the eye from this vantage point. They sat on even territory both gazing at one another. Dorian’s lovely hazel eyes traced Bull’s stormy ones. He felt slightly uncomfortable with the intimacy of sitting on someone’s lap. He was not used to someone looking at him and not caring what they saw. Dorian was not used to the warmth someone’s gaze could bring. He was not used to the pleasure coursing through his entire body. He was not used to someone taking care of him. It was things like this that made him skittish; he had made the mistake of falling in love back home, never again.

            It was like that most days, Dorian teetering on the edge of intimacy that scared him. What he found most surprising was the kinship he found in Bull. The older man was good company, well read, and overly intelligent too. The Qunari was everything Dorian had never thought him to be. He was surprisingly quiet and soft for such a big man. Bull enjoyed reading everything from magical theory to Varric’s trash. The giant Qunari was excellent with children. In his spare time he would talk with the Inquisitor, offer her comfort and advice; he made himself a wall around all his companions, protecting them from their hurts. It was all these things that made Dorian’s heart thud a little harder than normal.

            They were in the Western approach. Bull and Dorian were doing fine in the heat, both of them made for the weather. Dorian cringed every time he looked at the bridge of Talia’s nose or the back of her neck; the skin was reddening and blistering faster than they could apply ointment. The skin of her arms and the sensitive patch of skin between her legs was getting a nasty rash. The sand and sweat was irritating her skin. Cassandra was attempting not to look miserable despite the fact she was getting rather red as well. It was about midday when Talia threw down her pack and collapsed to the ground. They had found a small brook and the temperature had dropped by ten degrees.

            “Thank the maker,” Cassandra grumbled, she eased her pack down. The heavy armor she wore made Dorian uncomfortable just looking at it. Bull smiled, Dorian knew he had a soft spot for both of the women. Late at night the two of them had discussed who they thought was the toughest. Who was the best fighter. Who was the prettiest. It was petty but at the same time he did the same for the men of Skyhold.

            Talia made dinner as usual. The heavenly aroma spread through the camp quickly. The woman had many talents but cooking was her true calling. Dorian was washing up at the nearby stream when Cassandra approached him. The callous woman did not seem to know what to say but it was clear something was on her mind.

            “Dorian,” Her accent seemed to get thicker with her hesitation, “I feel as though I must ask you a question, yet I do not want to offend you.” The tall woman crouched and splashed water into her face. Dorian hesitated, afraid of what she might ask him. He trusted the woman; they had both shunned their lives  of luxury and made a name for themselves regardless of what their families thought. Cassandra wasn’t the person he thought he be easy friends with but her companionship was worth it.

            “Of course,” Dorian nodded, permission granted. Nervously, she yanked her hair from the rat tail she wrapped around her head and tugged on the loose strands with her fingers.

            “Are you and the Bull sleeping together?” She questioned, “It is not a problem if you are-” she froze when she saw the panicked look on his face. Quickly she gripped his shoulder, it was reassuring. The look in her eyes was so strong she glued him into place. “Dorian, I did not mean to scare you, only to say I am happy for you. I will keep this to myself, no one will know.” She smiled at him. Sometimes he forgot how lovely and compassionate she was.

            “Thank you,” He forced out passed his nerves, he squeezed her hand. Standing he said a small thank you to the heavens for Cassandra Pentaghast.

            Dinner was fresh mystery meat and potatoes, which grew in surprising abundance in certain parts of the desert. So many thoughts were rushing through Dorian’s head; he had slipped into uncharacteristic silence. Bull was observant enough not to mention it. Cassandra knew why not to mention it. Talia was respectful enough not to mention it. He thought of his father and the fear that had possessed him that night. He pondered the idea of what would have happened if his father had succeeded. Yanking himself away from those dreadful thoughts he thought of the good things. Felix, with his warm smile, offering comfort when Dorian first came out. Maevaris’s all knowing look as she watched him socialize at parties. The first kiss he had ever shared with a man, so freeing that his heart sung. Talia’s blatant acceptance of him, no matter who he loved; he had never even told her, she simply knew. Cassandra’s gentle reassurance, making sure his anxieties didn’t knock him off his feet. Bull,  of all the things he made Dorian feel, he made him feel safe.

            The companions ate and before long Talia was hauling Cassandra off to bed with her. He had been surprised to learn that the little Qunari woman enjoyed sleeping next to someone. He didn’t understand how she could so easily give and receive physical affection, even in a platonic fashion. With the two women out of sight, Bull turned and observed him. The stormy grey eyes Dorian loved so much traced over his body. Squirming, the mage refocused his attention to writing in the journal he kept with him on the road. The distraction did not work.

            “Something on your mind Bull?” Dorian asked, trying to keep his tone light. The Qunari remained silent and just watched him scratch down intense notes. The smooth wood of the pencil and the roughness of the page were comforting; he always felt best when he was either writing or reading. Dorian didn’t have to think about the awful things that had happened when there was a book in hand.

            “Are you alright?” Bull finally asked. Startled, Dorian dropped the pen and glanced up at him. In the firelight, the shadows that crossed the large man’s face were alluringly perfect. They managed to capture the perfect edges of his sculpted jaw. The warm glow highlighted the shimmer in Bull’s eyes. Suddenly things were far too warm. Closing his journal, Dorian looked up at Bull.

            “Let’s go to bed shall we?”

            Dark room. Strapped down. Gagged. Blindfolded. Copper, he could smell copper. The heavy and familiar scent of old tomes. His father’s voice, low and palpable. Panic.‘ Be still, don’t let them know you’re awake.’ Fire, the magic would be appropriate. He could escape. Heart beating too fast. Can’t breathe. ‘Need to think this through. Count your fingers.’ One. Deep breath. Two. Deep breath. Three. Pain coursing through his arm. A deep cut.

            Large hands wrapped around Dorian’s body and shook. He jolted up, eyes meeting Bull’s in panic. Dorian was in a tent with The Iron Bull; Dorian was not back in Tevinter moments away from becoming a catatonic vegetable or worse, a boring and “perfect” version of himself. Sighing, he let some of the tension leak from his posture.

            “What do you need?” Bull asked, his voice low. He had barely touched Dorian, he was unsure of how to react. Bull was treating him like a soldier waking up from a nightmare that wouldn’t leave.

            “Just-” Dorian struggled with his words, “Can you lay with me?” he requested cautiously. Bull nodded and lay back down. Gently, he draped a massive arm over Dorian’s abdomen. The man’s large palm pressed against his side, Bull could feel his heart. Rolling over, Dorian allowed himself to be pulled against Bull’s chest. Immediately he felt some of the weight leave him. His heavy eyes drooped closed. He could smell citrus, dirt, and sweat. “Thank you,” He mumbled. The Qunari affectionately rubbed Dorian’s bare side.

            “You’re welcome Dorian,”


	2. Words and Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian Pavus never lies to anyone but himself. Bull lies to make the people around him feel better. Sometimes there is no happy medium.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on touch and the power of words. Warning, this does mention a little of Halward's abuse towards Dorian.

            The rage is choking him. How dare his father presume to know a damn thing about him. He had exactly zero right to think he could just march right in Dorian’s life again. When Talia had crept up to the library, he had seen the letter gripped firmly in her little hands. Personally he was hoping for something scandalous. A naughty note or perhaps sensational marriage proposal. No, instead it was a patronizing and painfully rhetoric filled letter penned by his father. Maker bless Talia, she sat quietly and listened to him rant.  The red head’s cheeks were pale. Sweet Talia knew how to heal any wound but this was simply scar tissue that had been cut open again. The wound was far more painful the second time around. Halward Pavus could kiss his glorious ass as far as Dorian was concerned.

             The truth of what had happened was on the tip of his tongue, it threatened to spill out. Yet he kept quiet. Dorian wasn’t ready for her to know. What his father had done with the assistance of his mother was unspeakable. The fact that the people who claimed to love him, resented a fundamental part of his being so much they would risk his death was baffling. Common sense was a rare thing in Tevinter. His parents lost their senses as soon as Dorian came of age. It was something he used to be proud of. Then he grew up and realized being different got you killed.

            The Hinterlands, Andraste’s tits he hated the bloody place. It set off his hay fever and made him itch from head to toe. The people were of a culture so opposite of his own, he would never feel comfortable. Bull was glued to his side despite how irritable Dorian was. He had offered none of his companions an explanation as to why he despised his father. Bull likely knew in part, he was the most familiar with Tevinter customs. Talia only knew of the slave trade and the ugly low caste; it didn’t seem to occur  to her that nasty things happened high up the social ladder. Personally Dorian was most thankful for Cassandra who had tagged along; needing no explanation, she showed up the morning they felt in full gear. As they neared the tavern Dorian pondered whether his father would try and convince him to come home or just try and kill him.

            The Gull and Lantern made Dorian claustrophobic. All tight spaces did whether or not it was real or imagined. He was suffocating on the very air he had to breathe. Then he saw his father. Halward Pavus was older and a little bit more tired looking. The sadness in the man’s eyes was not earned. He did not deserve to feel sadness over Dorian; if anything it should have been the opposite. The two of them spat nasty words and comments at one another. Talia took the news that Dorian was homosexual with a grain of salt, she couldn’t fathom why it mattered. Then the news of blood magic came spilling from his lips. The words spilled from his mouth like a uncontrollable flood. The ugly truth was out.

            A tiny hand shot out to grip his, fingers grasping tightly. Big green eyes stared up at him with heartbreak. His best friend stood holding his hand tighter than his own mother ever had. She wouldn’t let go, this he knew. Talia was trying to lend him strength. Cassandra who was off in a corner of the tavern made the most disgusted noise he had ever heard her make. The little noise brought joy to his aching soul. Bull simply looked furious. The man’s full lips were pursed together into a tight line. The Qunari’s eyes ran down Halward; Dorian had seen Bull do that before a kill, assessing weak points. He only wished he had his fierce protectors over a year ago when this all began. He would have been a better person if he had.

            In the end, despite her personal feelings on the matter, Talia convinced him to stay and talk with his father. The tiny red head monitored the discussion while Cassandra and Bull stayed in the next room. In the middle of awkward pauses, Dorian could hear the two warriors shift. Both of them ready to strike. In the end the conversation left him with closure but more than a little confused. They stayed at one of the more developed Inquisition camps and for once Cassandra cooked. Her meal was practical and tasted earthy and pure. Cassandra said nothing to Dorian as she handed him the bowl of soup, the reassurance as well as love was implied. Talia had gone to bed early, the day’s events drained her as much as they did Dorian. She was far too empathic. The large Qunari sat opposite the fire from him. His eye was trained on the giant axe he carried with him. The big man’s mind was somewhere else not that Dorian minded much.

            Sleep was not going to come easily. Dorian was so emotionally drained he felt dead, however his mind was awake and overactive. The apology his father had given him had seemed sincere but lying to one’s children was a national pastime of Tevinter. Draping his arm across his face, he closed his eyes. Gentle hands glided up his bare stomach and chest. The tickling sensation was oddly comforting. He didn’t bother pull his arm from his face, just smiled.

            “Dorian put your head in my lap,” Bull stated. Lifting at his shoulders, Dorian allowed his head to rest in Bull’s lap. Curious he waited for whatever sensation was to come. To his surprise fingers ran gently through his hair. With delicate precision Bull should not have had, he undid the tangles from chocolate curls. Slow circles were rubbed Dorian’s temple, soothing the ache that had sat there for over a week.

            “You’re beautiful Dorian,” Bull stated startling him. A witty retort was lost when the massage moved down his neck. Dorian let out a soft exhale of air, not quite a moan and not quite a sigh of relief. “You’re so damn intelligent and arrogant it pisses me off.” This time Dorian did snort. He loved listening to Bull’s voice, the deep tones and quiet accent were wonderful. “I Wish I had known,” Bull murmured.

            What could the Qunari have done? Nothing. Perhaps he thought that he could care for Dorian better but the point was mute. The damage had been done and no amount of babying would make him whole again.

            “Oh don’t be silly Bull,” Dorian shushed him. The Qunari caught the dismissive hand he was waving. Dorian opened his eyes. The anger he saw in the other man’s was paralyzing. In his time with the Inquisition he had never seen Bull truly furious.

            “I could have made you feel better,” Bull stated, gripping his hand tighter. “We could have talked about things, made it easier on you.” Bull pressed his fingers into the skin of his palm. Dorian melted.

            “Contrary to popular belief I am not a fan of words,” Dorian murmured, “They do me no good in situations like this.” His body was starting to warm with his lover’s touch.

            “You need to talk about it Dorian,” Bull stated, voice disapproving. The small mage looked up; no he wasn’t a fan of words.

            He twisted his body to face Bull. Carefully he draped his legs on either side of Bull’s hips. Leaning in he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Bull’s collar bone. The older man made a stiff noise in the back of his throat. Gently he pulled Dorian back and looked him in the eye.

            “I am not going to fuck you so don’t have to think about the shit in your head,” Bull ground out, Dorian really wanted to push his luck. He attempted to resume his collar bone kisses when a firm hand was placed against his chest. A solid no. Bull had never outright refused before, Dorian was taken aback. Astonished, he looked up at the Qunari and considered him for a moment. “You need to talk about it; if not with me then Talia. Literally anyone, it will eat you alive.” He swept a hand through Dorian’s hair.

            “What do you want to know,” he asked stiffly. Bull thought painstaking hard for a moment, his mind seemed to go a number of different ways.

            “What could you have possibly done that made your father decide to use Blood magic to try and change your sexuality?” Bull asked. Dorian considered, he had never told this story to anyone. Lying had never been Dorian’s style. Stories were hard to keep track of and they always caught up with him in the end. So he didn’t lie to other people, just himself. It was the worst kind of self-deprecation. On a good day he almost believed what he told himself was true. The day Halward had tried to use blood magic, Dorian accepted the situation for what it was. His father, who he loved dearly, did not care for Dorian’s decisions in life. Halward was desperate and he betrayed his son. It was as simple as that. Bull didn’t need to know the specifics.

            “It was a culmination of things; the brothels, the random men, and then I refused to get married as well as publicly confirmed my preference.” Dorian sighed. Bull stared off towards the farthest reaches of the tent. That was the difference between them; Bull was a liar. He told people what they wanted to hear. If what Dorian suspected was true, the Qunari man had no idea how spin this.

            “How close did they come?” Bull asked, voice tight. The blood had been running down his arm, a deep scar still marred his skin where the incision had been made. Dorian traced the sensitive scar with his index finger.

            “Too close,” Dorian sighed.

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my own life I have used sex as a way to cope with mental pain or stress. It wasn't until I met my current partner that my actions changed. She wouldn't let me use my body to express pain, instead making me use my words. With Dorian's traumatic past I think he would do the same. I also think Bull would never let him get away with it.


	3. Bathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian comes out with the truth about what happened in Tevinter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had Muddy Waters by LP playing in the background while I wrote. It fit the tone I was setting and gave me lots of feels.

“We are kneeling at the rivers edge and tempting

All the steps to follow closer right behind

Is it only when you feel a part is empty

That it’s gnawing at the corners of your mind”

 

              Half of Skyhold heard Dorian scream that fateful night. Within moments half the army was barging into his bedroom. All he had wanted to do was go to bed early, instead he was slammed with nightmares. To his surprise it was Leliana who came flying in first. The violet nightgown she wore hung loosely around her waist. Bow drawn taught, she searched for the threat. The intensity of her gaze fell when she saw Dorian’s heavy breathing and panicked expression. Quickly she un-notched her arrow and let her arms come to rest at her side. Poking her head out of the room, she dismissed the guards.

            “Are you alright?” She asked, her voice was thick with sleep. Giving her a twisted half smile, he spoke.

            “I won’t even bother saying yes to that,” He quipped. The woman gave a rueful smile; she was one of the few people who didn’t look at him in pity in recent days. His heart was racing and he couldn’t quite swallow. The tall woman walked over to the side of his bed. She did not touch him, that wasn’t what he needed.

            “What can I do to help?” She asked. Dorian was not used to everyone around him caring what happened to him. It lessened the anxiety slightly.

            “Can you have one of the guards wake Bull,” He murmured, “I don’t quite feel like being alone tonight,”

            The Qunari sauntered into Dorian’s quarts fifteen minutes later. Bull did not bother to ask what was wrong just climbed into bed. It was the one thing Dorian allowed himself to have. Sleeping next to someone was one of the few comforts he had. Like usual Dorian laid his head on Bull’s left shoulder, draped his arm across Bull’s chest, and tangled their legs together.

            “Another dream?” Bull asked, his tone was almost clinical. That was something that Dorian had not expected. Underneath the loud and reckless man he fought next to, Bull was a well-trained medic. Dorian did not like to use healing magic on himself. The rush was too good and too easy to get addicted to; the last thing he needed to was get reckless because he had the magic to patch himself up. Instead, after a particularly brutal fight, he would allow Bull to apply poultices or stitch him up accordingly. He also seemed to have some knowledge of psychology. Since he was a spy, there was no doubt in his mind that Bull knew how to analyze him. Over the past few days he had heard Bull and Talia whispering about Asala-taar; the Inquisitor had mentioned the word before it was “soul sickness”, the Qunlat words for Post-traumatic Stress. Dorian didn’t like thinking he was sick but he was man enough to admit that he was struggling.

            For awhile Dorian didn’t answer Bull. He just listened to the other man’s heartbeat.  The scars from the incident with his father ran deeper than he initially thought.

            “The last straw was sometime last year. An extravagant party was being thrown by a…friend of mine; she loved to entertain. It was filled with the usual high society crowd. I was pleasantly drunk, for once my mother wasn’t watching me like a hawk. My fiancé Livia, dreadful woman, however was. She caught me sharing a moment with my lover Rilienus. That bit of gossip spread fast.” Dorian cringed, “My father and mother were horrified. Yet they did nothing for months. Then one night at dinner I felt rather faint, when I came to I was gagged, bound, and blindfolded. The room smelled distinctly of blood, I could taste copper on my tongue,” Dorian struggled with the next part of the story. Bull rubbed a gentle hand down Dorian’s bicep in encouragement. The Qunari’s jaw was visibly clenched.

            “You don’t have to say more Dorian,” Bull stated, his voice indicated his disgust. Sighing, Dorian traced a scar on Bull’s chest.

            “No, I think it’s far past the point where I need to talk to someone about this,” Dorian said firmly, “I panicked, tried to keep my breathing even. I could hear my mother and father talking, there were other people in the room as well. It was so strange to hear my parents talk about “fixing” me like I had a broken bone or a simple cold. A large incision was made on my left forearm.” Dorian showed Bull the scar, “Fire was always the element I was most comfortable with, Alexius said it was because of my personality. Passionate and unpredictable. I don’t need a staff to preform magic. I burnt through my restraints and tore off the blindfold. The room was a ritual center, very old. It felt evil. To escape I created a fire storm and bolted. Maevaris, an interesting mage, helped me cross the border.” Dorian pursed his lips, the memories hurt. “The thing that baffled me was that all through my youth, my father condemned mages who used blood magic. Called them weak. He was still willing to resort to something so barbaric just to make his son the perfect mage.” For a moment Dorian couldn’t breathe. The truth of what had happened was sobering. In another world he would have never met the Inquisitor and her merry band of misfits. He would have never met Bull. Instead he would have been married to Livia, a lobotomized shell of his former self.

            Bull traced his fingers down Dorian’s back. His heartbeat was no longer slow and even. The Qunari was angry for Dorian. Thankfully the older man didn’t seem to pity him.

            “In all my time with the Ben-Hassrath I have never met anyone quite as brave as you,” Bull pressed a kiss to the top of Dorian’s head. His heart ached for more. Tilting his head up, he looked at Bull trying to communicate his need. Bull was not having any of it. The older man tightened his grip on Dorian’s body.

            “Dorian, I will tell you again. You don’t need to use your body to tell me you are in pain. I already know that you are, for tonight just go to sleep. In the morning I’ll think about it.” Bull smiled down at him. Dorian gave a discontented sigh but did as the big man told him to.

            In the morning when Dorian woke he could smell some of the lavender oil Talia used. It hadn’t occurred to him why the scent smelled like home to him until a few days prior. The elven slave who had practically raised him, Raina, had always smelled of lavender. Opening his eyes, he saw Bull had drawn him a bath. The steaming water was calling to his aching body. A little bit of heat would be welcome. The Qunari noticed Dorian was awake and made a gesture at Dorian.

            “Strip,” Was all the man said. Standing, Dorian pulled off his trousers and smalls. Naked he felt small and vulnerable. Bull helped him ease into the warm water. A sigh of pleasure exited Dorian’s mouth. The Qunari settled on a stool at the head of the tub. Wetting his hands and Dorian’s hair, he rubbed citrus shampoo into Dorian’s scalp. The sensation was heavenly. When he was done with his hair, Bull moved to the foot of the tub.

            “Leg,” Dorian immediately pulled his foot from the tub. Lavender oil was worked first into his right foot and then the left. The tingling sensation ran from the arch of his foot to his neck. It was odd to feel so safe when his body was at its most vulnerable. Bull wasn’t supposed to be safe, but he was easily Dorian’s haven. All these feelings gave Dorian the odd feeling that he was drowning. Despite everything, he was alright with it.

“In the muddy water we’re falling

In the muddy water we’re crawling

Holds me down

Hold me now

Sold me out

In the muddy waters we’re falling”

-Lp, “Muddy Waters

           

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been great to hear from all of you; the feedback and love is appreciated.


	4. Family Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chargers accept Dorian into their strange little family. Dorian loves them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first bit of the story was pulled from The Years are Long. I enjoy the idea that Talia was the catalyst to get Dorian to good place.

             Lavender. Vanilla. Citrus. All three scents hit his nose at once. Looking up he saw the small girl settle onto the arm of his seat. Passing him a bottle of wine, she stared into her eyes with so much empathy he had to look away.

            “When I was about seventeen I met a girl named Kaya,” She said in a matter of fact tone. Her facial expression warped into pure sunshine. “She was tall and slender. Her hair was the color of cream. Whenever she was around you could feel the room warm up. I was fierce back then and a little too angry. And then one day I was out in the fields feeling like I was eating myself alive. She comes along and she sits down in the dirt and listens to me scream about life. When I was done she looked up at asked me if I was done. God I was pissed. Then she told me a story about how she was taken from her mother. Sold as a slave. My family had been the first kind faces she had seen in a long time. Soon enough I was sitting in the dirt. Just enraptured by her stories of life and suddenly I realized I hadn’t thought about my woes the entire time.” Talia popped the cork on the bottle. Dorian was failing to see the point of the lecture. He raised an eyebrow and Talia continued. “For months we ate together, trained together, and raised hell together. When I looked at her I would just get this feeling of my skin being too tight. I had no idea what that meant. Then one day we were sitting in the barn closest to the house. She leaned over and kissed me. I was never happier,” Talia smiled at the memory. Dorian’s heart contracted. That explained why Talia hadn’t so much as blinked at the idea of him being gay.

            “What happened, is she still around?” Dorian questioned, cocking his head to the side. Talia laughed but the expression on her face told a different story. Heartbreak.

            “It was late in the fall, right when all the trees turned around the farm. She said she was going into town for something. I remember the expression on her face after she kissed me goodbye. The sideways grin she always gave me when she was planning something. I waited two days, she didn’t come back. Xander and I rode into town. Went to the bakery she loved so much. Her blood was still splattered on the exterior walls. Tevinter slavers had passed through, one recognized her. They slit her throat and left her there to die like a dog in a gutter.” Talia wiped the palm of her hand against her cheek, “The point of this is, I see how you look at Bull. Whether it’s lust or something else, it is not my place to say. However I will say, don’t leave it. Spend time with him, have some fun. If more happens then go from there. But don’t squander any time you may have with him. The regret of not doing anything because of your leftover fears will do you no good Dorian.” She took a long sip from the bottle. Dorian remained silent but took the bottle from her hands when she passed it.

            “Might I tempt you with a long and overdrawn discussion of all the fabulous butts around here?” Dorian questioned, attempting to lighten the mood. Looking down at him and laughing, Talia nodded. Sliding off the seat, she slipped into the part of the cushion unoccupied by him.

            “Cullen has a great butt,” Talia whispered quietly, actually afraid that someone might hear her. Dorian nodded in silent agreement. Making a gesture with his hands, Dorian could simply picture it.

            “Those leather breeches he wears are absolute sin,” Dorian added. Talia took another sip of wine. He knew she could drink him under the table if she wanted, for once she showed restraint.

            “You know whose delightful ass I would love to get my hands on?” Talia barked out a laugh as she pictured it in her head. Dorian couldn’t begin to guess, she’d never shown any romantic inclination towards anyone in Skyhold.

            “And who would that be?” He smirked, reaching up he fixed a messy strand of hair. Wickedly, Talia smiled back at him.

            “Hawke.”

            He did it. Dorian kissed Bull. It had been slow and passionate. It was more than Dorian had expected. They had gone to bed and everything was perfect. He had even managed to get over the anxiety he held and asked Bull if they could continue exclusively. The Qunari had said yes. It seemed that life had different plans for Dorian than he had ever dreamed. Things were going well. He now spent almost every night with Bull. They often ate and drank together. Though what Dorian found most gratifying was how the Chargers accepted him. Krem had been the first to approach. The hulking warrior had looked Dorian up and down then settled next to him at the bar. The two Tevinter men couldn’t be more different. Dorian had come from a life of luxury. Krem had grown up one rung above slavery. They had two things in common; first they had both rejected the lives that they had been born into and made a name for themselves. They had also had to flee their homeland for no more than who they were inside.

            Krem smiled at Dorian, he was surprised at how it warmed him. Then the warrior turned and offered him a drink. They spoke in Tevene; it was interesting to hear the vast differences in their dialects. Dorian’s was far more posh, grammar immaculate. Krem on the other hand used the slang of his people, relying on the harsher speech used by lower class citizens. They laughed at jokes no one outside the Imperium would understand. They drank to escaping their poisonous environments. The two of them bonded over the fact that they had come to the South with little more than the shirts on their backs and determination. In the end the two men weren’t so different.

            The rest of the Chargers were a bit slower to warm up to him. Dalish, despite the fact she denied that she was a mage, asked him for help polishing her attacks. The two of them practiced in seclusion. She was lovely and she reminded him of Felix in her mannerisms. Rocky was more interested in Dorians alchemical knowledge; so far the two of them had successfully blown up two bridges, three trees, and seven abandoned houses. The Inquisitor, upon Josie’s prodding, had gently asked they move their experiments away from the castle. Skinner simply terrified him until she shared her love for ancient texts; in the end it was her who taught him something. She detailed the history of her alienage for him, her stories grand and captivating. He helped Stitches refine his poultices, even making them taste a bit better for the occasions when Bull decided to drink them. Grim…Well Grim was a good drinking buddy.

            Bull was proud of his crew and seemed even happier that Dorian had taken an interest in them. On one of the few occasions Talia did not take either Bull or Dorian with her on a mission, he would go out with the Chargers. This job however hadn’t turned out the way any of them had planned. Apostates had ambushed them; Dorian could still feel the ozone crackling from their lightning. Skinner was on the ground, her side was slashed open. One of the apostates had nearly gutted her with his staff’s blade. Stitches applied pressure and kept the woman steady. Dorian was standing over her, pouring what little of his mana he had left into healing her. The wound was visibly repairing but there was still so much blood. His head felt heavy and each breath was agony. He hadn’t been this low on mana in a long time.

            “Sit down Dorian,” Bull called from behind. He ignored the order and poured his last bit of strength into sealing the wound. Personally he was just glad Skinner had already passed out from the pain. Staggering, he leaned on his staff. The entirety of his being was screaming, veins on fire. Exhaustion was setting in quick. He took a knee before passing out in the dirt next to Skinner.

            When he came round, the dark haired elf was staring down at him. Her angular face was set in a stony grimace.

            “You’re awake,” She commented, “BULL!” She bellowed despite her injury. The Qunari man poked his head into the tent. Somehow he managed to look pissed and relieved all at once.

            “We need to have a conversation about following orders,” Bull gritted out, “When I tell you to stop, you stop.” He crouched down and examined the two of them. Dorian wasn’t going to even pretend to be apologetic. He had saved a life. Skinner knew this but said nothing.

            “Nice chat we’re having,” Dorian smile despite the fact his entire body was screaming, “You need to have Dalish train in healing, barriers don’t protect against everything.” Bull simply sighed.

            Back at Skyhold Bull cornered Dorian in their room. He towered over Dorian’s smaller frame. Gripping Dorian’s chin, he forced the mage to look him in the eyes.

            “You took care of my people and I am thankful for that,” Bull stated, “But you cannot push yourself that hard. Having one member of the team go down is stressful but when it’s you.” He trailed off. Dorian sighed.

            “You cannot expect me to nothing while someone is bleeding out. I can recover from low mana. Skinner would have died without treatment. If you can’t separate me from one of your ducklings then we shouldn’t fight together.” Dorian traced Bull’s cheek. The Qunari let go of his chin in surprise. Rationality was one of Dorian’s strengths, not one he used often, but a strength none the less. Bull knew he was right.

            “Alright, you have a point,” Bull conceded. Triumphantly he pressed a kiss to the corner of the big man’s mouth.

            “Now I do believe Krem said he would buy me a drink for what he called the manliest fainting spell he’d ever seen,” Dorian chuckled. Bull wrapped his arm around Dorian’s waist.

            “Wouldn’t want to keep the boys waiting,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long day of writing and editing I can happily say the last chapter should come out within the next couple of days. Until then I have work to do!  
> XoXo,  
> Abbey


	5. Aging and Adoption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retirement feels good.

                Come visit me. It will be fun. You’ll get to see your god children. Dorian thought back to his latest letter with Talia. He was getting too old to be dealing with the woman. It seemed the long years and extensive traumas didn’t faze her in the slightest anymore. Dorian on the other hand still hated the sea. He hated boats. He hated the open water in general. He was retiring from his position as Archon and he desperately wanted to see his best friend. It had been lonely in recent weeks. Bull had left a bit earlier than him to help Krem on a job. Maevaris was happily ruling over the Magisterium. Dorian was well…Dorian was on a boat and ready to arrive in the South. He was ready to go home.

            It had been a long road, yet he was proud of the man he had become. In the beginning of his journey, Dorian had been nothing more than a pariah and unrepentant freak. Over the years he had been many things; Advisor to the Inquisitor, Ambassador to the South, Magister, and Archon. He had eliminated slavery as well as the caste system. He had improved relations with the South; an actual alliance had been made between the two countries. He promoted patriotism whilst striving for change. Most of all Dorian was a proud husband.

            Bull and Dorian had been married for six years now. There were little grey hairs popping up all over his head and there were crow’s feet around his eyes. Every morning he ran through training exercises in order to keep his body in shape. Bull made it look easy, the man was aging gracefully. Maevaris joked that they were the most beautiful old men she’d ever had the pleasure of knowing. That made Dorian’s skin crawl. Beauty wasn’t everything. It was just something that he valued highly. Bull on the other hand seemed to enjoy watching him age, using time as a map of how they’d grown. When they’d lie in bed together, Bull would trace an old scar or new wrinkle. The Qunari man’s eyes would sparkle and he’d press a kiss to the mark.

            The Hinterlands, still a shit hole thirteen years later. The rain was coming down and showed no signs of letting up. The Inquisition had a number of cabins built all over Fereldan and Orlais for occasions such as this one. Dorian had been greeted by a few guards but for the most part they let him settle in without a fuss. The fire was warm and he didn’t smell like the sea anymore. Instead he smelled of honey and jasmine; wrapped up tightly in a wool blanket, he couldn’t be more content. Maker, he needed a haircut. The black strands hung at his shoulders. He’d have to ask Talia for some assistance. Bull would be there within the day and then they would travel to Skyhold. Retirement felt good.

            Head tilted back and mouth open, Dorian had drifted off. Little did he know his husband stood in the doorway of the bedroom chuckling. A hand ran through his wavy hair and Dorian started with a snort. Over a decade together and Bull could still scare the soul out of him if he tried.

            “You look tired Kadan,” Bull murmured, pressing a kiss to Dorian’s forehead. Leaning into the kiss, Dorian stood. Gently he placed a hand on Bull’s chest and got on his tiptoes. Pressing his lips against Bull’s, he gently nipped the Qunari’s bottom lip; a simple and playful hello. The older Qunari looked down at Dorian. Their lives were intricately entwined and when united, things couldn’t be better.  

            “The last week or so has been rather trying Amatus,” Dorian settled back onto the divan pulling Bull with him. The large man laughed softly and yanked Dorian into his chest.

            “What did the sea threaten to eat you up?” Bull questioned, eyes twinkling. Dorian glowered up at him, a pout moving across his feature.

            “No but the pirates did,” The Qunari’s smile disappeared, “Their captain turned out to quite lovely. Isabela, sweet girl, not looking for anything other than a good time. Left us alone once I threatened to set her ship on fire. Promised I would say hello to Hawke for her, she missed the wedding.” Dorian ran his fingers across Bull’s chest. For a few moments his husband simply looked at him then burst into a fit of laughter.

            “So you’re afraid of the ocean but not of those who rule it?” Bull snorted. Nipping at Bull’s jaw, Dorian looked at him rather indignantly.

            “My love, no one rules the sea.” He gave another little bite. Bull didn’t seem the least bit convinced.

            It was cold. How could Dorian have forgotten how cold it was? Yanking his coat a little tighter and walking a little faster, he managed not to shiver. Bull was shirtless as usual and appeared unaffected. Damn the Qunari. Within the next hour Skyhold came into view, more magnificent than Dorian had remembered.

            “We will reach the castle by nightfall,” Bull stated and took notice of Dorian’s red nose, “There will be plenty of fires and liquor to keep you nice and warm.” Bull smirked. Dorian gripped his staff a little tighter. No matter how many years they had been together, he still thought about knocking Bull over the head with his staff on occasion. The Qunari guffawed at his expression and shoved him into the snow.

            Apparently the scouts had sent word in advance because upon arrival, Dorian received an armful of Inquisitor. He also received a mouthful of her hair. Pressing his nose to her hair, he breathed in her warm scent. She smelled of mountain air and elfroot. There were underlying tones of vanilla and citrus. How he had missed her. Once she was done, the tiny red head darted to Bull; the two spoke in Qunlat, affectionate words if body language was anything to go by. Reaching up with her hand, she caressed Bull’s cheek.

            “You will never know how much I have missed seeing the two of you.” Her large eyes looked a little damper than normal.

            “No time for tears,” Dorian spoke cheerfully, “Let’s go get something to drink.” He wrapped an arm around her waist. Nodding, the three of the set off towards the Herald’s Rest.

            The atmosphere hadn’t changed that much. There were familiar and new faces. Two individuals in particular stuck him as odd. The King of Fereldan sat comfortably in the corner; he was staring affectionately at beautiful woman. Both of them appeared to be making an attempt at looking inconspicuous…it was not working.

            “Talia darling,” The little woman looked up, “Are you aware that the King of Fereldan is sitting in your tavern.” He cautiously pointed out the two in the corner.

            “Yes I am aware that Alistair is in my tavern,” The red head glowered at him, “He’s here on official business but an old friend of his was in town. I told him our meetings could wait.” She smiled warmly at the pair. Pursing his lips, Dorian considered.

            “Someday you will have to teach me how you woo all these important nobles,” He stated, “Sure they hate you at first, but give it a bit and they love you. In all my years as Archon, never once did any southerner of note want to be my friend aside from you.” He huffed indignantly. Throwing her head back, Talia laughed.

            “You’re from Tevinter, what did you expect?” She chuckled. Dorian put on his best horrified expression.

            “A nice fruit basket would have been nice,” Dorian said, “Or a marriage proposal from a lady to spice things up.” Beside him Bull rolled his eyes. Talia ordered the three of them drinks, then handed Dorian his.

            “Heaven forbid no one spoils you!”

            The evening was pleasant and Dorian felt right at home. At one point the King of Fereldan recognized Dorian and started. Maker preserve him, King Theirin was a gorgeous man. Talia elbowed him in the ribs. Her disapproving glare was enough to sober him up. The king approached with his female companion in tow. Talia greeted them both with equal enthusiasm.

            “King Alistair, you already know Dorian.” She gestured to the mage with light embellishment. True, in his time as Archon he had written to the king multiple times. Back in his Inquisition days, he had encountered the king once and it hadn’t been pleasant. Although with time magic involved, what was? He shook the king’s hand, to his surprise they were still calloused from weapons handling.

            “Pleasure your Highness,” Dorian grinned. The blond haired man was remarkable in the fact that he smiled at Dorian. Most looked ready to punch him or kill him, it was nice change.

            “Archon,” The king nodded his head, “Here on business?” He questioned Dorian. Laughing and taking a long sip from his glass Dorian enjoyed the freedom he now possessed.

            “On the contrary we are celebrating my retirement,” He smiled at Alistair, “You’ll be receiving a scathing and educational report from my successor Maevaris any day now.” He knocked back his drink. The woman next to Alistair smiled, it was a perfect smile.

            “Congratulations are in order then. Remind me to send this Maevaris a gift of good will, hopefully that will ease me into her good graces. You’re quite lucky. Getting to retire so young is rare, much less with someone you love. There are some days I wish retirement was on the horizon,” Alistair spoke thoughtfully. The woman burst into laughter and patted the king on the back. 

            “Oh Ali,” The woman snorted, “The day you give up the throne will be the day I walk willingly into my grave.” She wiped her eye and turned to Dorian. “We haven’t met yet. Anya Amell.” She extended her hand. Dorian took it and glared at Talia. The Hero of Fereldan and King Theirin, he made casual conversation with his betters while Talia got drunk. How delightful. Bull and Talia were attempting to hold in their laughter.

            “Would you two join us for a drink?” Bull smiled and wrapped and arm around Dorian.

            Oh the bed was comfortable. Arms above his head, Dorian arched his back, spine cracking. Bull leaned down and kissed his lips, his right hand lying gently across his neck. Arching into the touch, he felt Bull tug his hair loose from the bun at the top of his head. Dorian ached for affection. It felt odd when they had to spend time apart. After thirteen years together Dorian sometimes forgot that the qunari man was so essential to his very being. The covers tipped back and Dorian felt Bull settle in beside him.

            “How does it feel to be a Southerner?” Bull asked, looking into Dorian’s eyes. Making a low noise of disapproval, Dorian replied.

            “It’s a destination,” Dorian scoffed, “I will never be a Southerner.” Bull chucked and pulled Dorian to his chest. The alcohol and his husbands warmth lulled him closer to sleep. His tired eyes were fluttering, Dorian pressed a feather light kiss to Bull’s chest.

            “Goodnight Amatus,” he smiled. Bull kissed the space between his brows.

            “Goodnight Kadan,”

            It wasn’t until a few weeks later that the anxiety hit. Dorian had never been good at doing nothing. His mind worked too hard and too fast for him to comfortably retire. At first it was one bout of anger, then insomnia, and worst of all his magic started getting a little out of control. Sometimes his body felt like it was tingling with light and energy. Other times he felt as though he was running on nothing but a dream of a better day. Dorian was a politician and of Tevinter, he knew how to fake a smile. Yet it was getting harder and harder to do so.

            It was the first of the week when Dorian and Bull were called to a private meeting with the Inquisitor. Talia sat at the head of her war table, letter clutched in her hand. Tears were streaked her makeup down her face. The skies wept with her, rain pounding on the windows.

            “Do you remember Olive Diamonte?” Talia questioned. Dorian was unsure where this line of questioning was going. Olive belonged to one of the first sets of slaves Dorian freed.

            “Yes, I do. Now what is this about?” He questioned her, tone sharp like a blade. Talia looked up at him, woeful and somber.

            “She and her husband were killed two nights ago,” Talia replied, “Their daughter Rose managed to escape. She will be here within the week.” She gently pulled the star shaped piece of the table. The star had been Olive’s symbol.

            “What does this have to do with us?” Bull asked, ever warry. Talia gazed at them still in shock.

            “I want you two to foster Rose,” She stated, simple and clear. The moments passed before Dorian burst into laughter. “This is not a joke Dorian. You speak her language, you knew her mother, and you are the most talented mage here. You will teach her. You will care for her. You will make her feel at home.” Talia’s voice was firm and dangerous. Dorian was surprised, she had never forced him to do anything.

            “You got it boss.”

            The wind blew cold and hard the day Rose arrived at Skyhold. Talia helped her down from the large horse she rode. The girl had barely reached her fifteenth year, it was obvious that grief was taking over her life. The far off look and slumped posture were disheartening.

            “Rose you remember Dorian,” Talia stated, leading the girl. Amber eyes looked up at him, arrogant. The little girl was proud and arrogant.

            “Freer of the slaves,” She spoke with a sarcastic drawl. Cringing, Talia gestured to the two men.

            “Dorian and his husband will be fostering you until you come of age.” Inquisitor Trevelyan appeared to be on edge. The young woman looked up at the Inquisitor, eyes flaming with fury.

            “Lady Trevelyan, do you know why my mother was murdered?” She questioned Talia. The was a pregnant pause. “Because of him.” She pointed to Dorian. The blood in Dorian’s body turned to ice.

            “I don’t-” Talia stuttered. Rose looked to the three of them. Lips pursed and face tight, she appeared cold.

            “My mother was one of the first freed. So she was one of the first to die. Did your all knowing spymaster not know that.” Rose said and stormed off. Bull watched her go, eyes soft.

            “That went better than I expected,” He stated, mischievous smirk on his face. Talia and Dorian turned towards him in disbelief.

            “You knew?” Dorian sputtered. Bull chuckled and put a hand on Dorian’s back. It was a loving and comforting gesture.

            “You have your contacts in Tevinter and I have mine.”

            Weeks passed and little progress was made. Turns out managing a teenager was a good way to keep busy. Rose was hard as steel and cold as ice with Dorian. Yet she was warm with Bull. The two would sit near each other, sometimes talking and sometimes not. Dorian would keep a healthy distance between himself and the girl. He had no desire for her to set him on fire. There were worse things than to be hated. Still it disturbed him that he had not been given a chance by the girl.

It was night and the apartments were a little too cold for sleep. Stumbling out of bed he went to the hearth room. He needed to get the ice out of his skin. Rose sat before the fire, legs extended towards the flame. A book on necromancy lay open on her lap. The pages were creased from years of use.

            “I haven’t seen a copy of Necromancy and It’s Practical Uses in years,” Dorian spoke quietly, speaking in Tevene felt good. Taking a seat a safe distance from the girl, he curled into the couch. Surprised Rose looked up. Quickly her face hardened into a cold stare.

            “It’s what I was studying before I left Tevinter. Mother wanted me to be a healer; I have no talent for it.” She closed the book slowly. Dorian looked at the worn cover and smiled. Perhaps the two of them weren’t so different.

            “You know I am a Necromancer,” Dorian stated, “I could teach you a few things if you’d like.” He offered quietly. Rose watched him with tired eyes.

            “I suppose that would be alright, otherwise I will get rusty and useless.” She gave a haughty smile.

            The plant came to life under Rose’s touch. Dorian was surprised at the girl’s natural talent for Necromancy. He was also thankful for it. The two of them were bonding slowly. A tentative alliance formed between the two. It had been two months and the two had begun to speak of darker, more unpleasant things. Dorian was falling in love with the girl’s intelligence and wit. He adored her ability to take something painful and turn it into something beautiful and good. In other words he adored Rose. Bull had picked up on this fact early into their training. Cautiously, he allowed the two mages to bond. Hope was a hard thing to find in the South.

            On a rainy day during the summer one year after Rose had come to them, did Dorian get so surprise he lost a year off of his life. He and Bull were sitting together eating dinner. Rose was out with Jay, Talia’s son.

            “I want to adopt Rose,” Bull stated, setting down his glass of wine. Choking, Dorian looked up at his husband wide eyed. It had crossed Dorian’s mind a number of times but he had never wanted to bring it up.

            “Would she even let us?” Dorian retorted. Rose had made progress but was still a bit cold. Smiling, Bull leaned across the table and kissed Dorian’s forehead. Both of them were at the point of loving the little girl.

            “We will ask,” Bull commented, “But I have a feeling she will say yes.” Dorian snorted.

            Rose ran her fingers through her hair nervously; Dorian did the exact same thing. Bull was watching the two of them. They had asked her and now Rose was just staring.

            “You want to adopt me?” She asked finally. Her large and sullen eyes studied the two men in front of her. Bull was leaned casually against the wall. Dorian on the other hand was nervously fidgeting on the couch.

            “If you want to.” Bull sauntered over to the couch, then placed his hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “We don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” Bull explained to her. Rose studied them. Hundreds of expressions seemingly surfaced on her face. Panic, joy, anger.

            “So which one of you do I call dad?”

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I got into quite a mood, just couldn't write. Hope you enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> I always love hearing from you.  
> XOXO,  
> Abbey


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